


Goals

by abluevixen (knightofbows)



Series: | January 2016 Prompt Challenge | [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: #relationshipgoals, Casual Sex, Chromecast, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, M/M, Pintrest Boards, Social Media, Tech-Savvy Teen Wolves, Technology, Video & Computer Games, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofbows/pseuds/abluevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a Pintrest account, and Allison is planning her wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goals

Stiles had a Pintrest account. He didn’t talk about it; he didn’t follow or friend anyone; he didn’t talk about it. His account had maximum privacy settings in place, he had the app icon hidden on his cell phone, and he never, ever, used it when he was within phone-snatching reach. Because, as he’d said when Allison and Lydia became obsessed during the planning of Allison and Scott’s wedding, it was basically a glorified book-marking system trying to be the impractical love child of Twitter and Instagram.

Every time Allison found a new wedding board, she’d enthusiastically share it with Lydia. And if Lydia found something cute, Allison would chirp, “Pin it! Send it to me!” And by the end of the day, the Pack would be gathered around Derek’s giant television in his embarrassingly large loft with Lydia Chromecasting her Pinterest finds for everyone to see and discuss. Stiles would comment and engage as much as he could bring himself to, but he mostly sat as quiet support for Scott, who was honestly overwhelmed with the whole process.

It was hard, though, seeing all the collected Instagram photos of two hands casting their joined heart-shaped shadow on a sandy beach, or couples sharing hot drinks on a scenic mountain. He had social media—he wasn’t completely disconnected—and he knew that what Allison and Lydia pinned weren’t anything particularly new to the group. Allison and Scott had the ridiculous hand-holding in beautiful places mastered. Kira and Malia were suckers for messy-chic intimate shots. Lydia and Jackson were the super-model couple who inadvertently advertised for clothing brands. Isaac and Cora were the traveling pair who were always abroad and trying new foods and weren’t always put together, but somehow always managed to look perfect anyway.

There were grand gestures and cute DIY gift exchanges and homes being made and decorated. Outward expression of their inner love was…well Pin-able. And Stiles had an entire board on his Pinterest account dedicated to similar things.

#relationshipgoals

Signs he’d hang near the coffee machine in the house he shared with his special someone, MR. & MRS. throw pillows, an antique looking map where they’d pin all the places they’d visited. He pinned wedding rings and uses for fairy lights and home-made scrubs to help loosen tight muscles. He liked the idea of promise rings, and had an entire sub-board dedicated to them. He pinned recipes and storage ideas that doubled as decoration and clever ways of using LED lights and ways to build his own entertainment center.

But where Lydia and Jackson, Allison and Scott, Kira and Malia, and Isaac and Cora took their pinned ideas and _applied_ them, sharing with the Pack their finished projects or taking the Pack along to buy the supplies, Stiles just pinned them. He kept them. He _imagined_ them.

“Hey,” Derek said, sliding in to sit beside Stiles on the couch. He rested a large, warm hand on Stiles’ thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth in the way that always brought Stiles back from wherever he’d drifted. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Stiles answered. He quickly tucked away his phone and gave Derek a smile. He’d been looking at his collection of relationship goals, wistful about things he didn’t think he’d have. “Why?”

“You’ve been…melancholy since the girls hopped on the wedding train.” Derek’s eyebrows raised in silent question, his full, plush mouth pulled into the beginnings of a frown. He leaned a little more into Stiles, slid his hand down to cup the inside of his thigh. “You sure you’re okay?”

And Derek was…Derek was great, if Stiles were honest; probably the best he’d ever had, and the best he could hope for while still being entangled in Beacon Clusterfuck Hills. He’d grown since they’d first met—Stiles had, too—and where their rough edges had ground painfully together, they’d since smoothed out for a nice, easy glide. He smiled more readily, laughed more easily, and was fairly affectionate. They’d been sleeping together for a few months, undeclared but close—they were friends, now, after all—and Derek never shied away from Stiles’ kiss or touch. And Stiles had a few of his things in Derek’s loft, and Derek had a few of his things at Stiles’ apartment, but they weren’t a _couple_. They didn’t go on dates or hold hands or cuddle. Sometimes they fell asleep together after fucking, but one of them always woke up before the other and got the hell out so the host could start his day in peace.

When Derek carefully slid his hand up Stiles’ thigh to brush teasingly at his crotch, Stiles grinned. “Better now.” Derek pressed his palm against his fly, and Stiles shamelessly rocked against it. He grabbed Derek by the back of the neck and pulled him into a wet, sloppy kiss.

Derek suckled Stiles’ bottom lip and swung a leg over his hips, straddling him where he sat on the couch and continuing to rub his dick through his jeans.

Stiles knew where this was going.

It was a familiar dance: Derek would make him beg for it, pushing Stiles to the edge and then staving him off. They’d dig a bottle of lube from one of their many hiding places—between the couch cushions this time, probably—and Derek would pull Stiles’ jeans down his hips just enough to get to his cock. Derek would strip to nothing but his shirt, let Stiles prep him until he was begging, then Derek would ride him. They’d come—reality-bending orgasms that left Stiles weak in the knees—then Derek would kiss him. One kiss. Maybe two. Then they’d clean up and continue their evening until one wanted the other, and the whole cycle repeated itself.

This was them.

They laughed. They joked. They fucked.

It was good, great even. Stiles was fine with it. Really.

Then he left his phone at Derek’s place.

He didn’t think anything of it. Why should he? He just headed over there the next day to pick it up, hoping for maybe an exchange of blow-jobs before he carried on with the rest of his afternoon. But when he walked into the loft with the key Derek had given him, he found his werewolf…fuckbuddy, he supposed, sitting on the couch utterly engrossed in the small device in his hand.

Stiles’ cell phone.

“Derek?” Stiles hedged. He closed the door behind him and carefully approached the couch, but any act he tried would be wasted, insulting. Derek could surely smell his budding anxiety and hear how his heart started to race. “Whatcha got there?”

“Hashtag relationship goals?” When Derek looked up from the glowing screen, his brows were pinched in utter confusion, and his beautiful kaleidoscopic eyes were so very wounded.

“You found my Pinterest,” Stiles said, though instead of being hurt by how Derek was clearly hurt, he was angry. Derek had gone through Stiles’ phone without his permission. Derek had invaded his privacy, and held him accountable for what he found.

“I didn’t mean to,” the werewolf apologized. “You phone had an update prompt, and I thought I’d have it ready for you when you picked it up. The app updated, too, then opened when it was finished. I didn’t even know you had a Pinterest account.”

“No one does,” Stiles sniped. “And for good reason.” He marched over to Derek and snatched the phone from his loose grip. He shoved it into his pocket and folded his arms across his chest.

“What good reason is that, Stiles?” Derek asked. “It’s just Pinterest. Everyone’s using it to help prepare for Scott and Allison’s wedding. If anything, you should contribute to the planning. You’re Scott’s Best Man.”

“You weren’t looking at the wedding stuff, Derek,” Stiles snarled. “You were looking at my hashtag relationship goals board!”

“So what if I was?” Derek growled back, standing and squaring his shoulders. “It’s not like you _tell_ me what you want. Oh, no, that would be too easy. I might be able to smell when you’re upset or hurt or happy or horny, but I’m a werewolf, Stiles, not a fucking mind-reader.”

“I _do_ tell you want I want! I tell you all the time how I want you to fuck me and where, if it’s not working for me, if it really is. I tell you you’re amazing and you’re beautiful and how good you make me feel. You know everything!”

Derek hissed, “Yeah, _when we’re fucking_.”

Stiles snapped his jaw shut.

“You tell me how amazing I am _when we’re fucking_. You tell me how beautiful I am _when we’re fucking_. You tell me how good I make you feel _when we’re fucking_. You tell me how you want to be fucked, and where and when and what works and what doesn’t. You are an A-plus communicator when it comes to _fucking_. But _this_?” He gestured to the bulge in Stiles’ pocket where his phone rested, safely, away from prying eyes and nosey werewolves. “ _This_ is what I need to know. _This_ is what I really want to know.”

“…why?” Stiles asked, and nervously licked his lips. “Why does it matter?”

Derek’s face went wounded again, a little insulted, a little hurt. He dropped his gaze and shoved his hands into his pockets, vulnerable and ashamed. “Because maybe I want some of those things, too.”

Stiles tried to suppress a grin, but Derek Hale admitting to feelings and wanting things? That was progress. And Derek Hale admitting to feelings and possibly wanting things with _Stiles_? Well, that was just amazing. “You have hashtag relationship goals?”

It sounded painful for him to confess, “Just one right now.”

“Which is…?”

“A relationship with you,” the werewolf sighed, exasperated. “Obviously. That’s the goal. The rest of it doesn’t matter if that doesn’t happen.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Stiles asked. He took careful, intentional steps towards Derek, then eased the wolf’s hands from his pockets with a gentle touch. He laced their fingers and ducked into view of Derek’s still lowered gaze. “You seem to tell me how you want me to touch you or take you easily enough. Why wouldn’t you tell me this?”

“It’s not easy, Stiles,” Derek said, soft. “It’s not easy. It’s just…I know it’s important to you, communication. So I’ve been trying.”

“This type of communication is important, too,” Stiles said, smirking a little. “If you want more than sex—”

“—I’ve always wanted more than sex.”

Stiles huffed a laugh, and repeated, “If you wanted more than sex, you should speak up about it.”

“It never seemed like a conversation worth having. Then I find this sappy, romantic interest board on your secret Pinterest and…” Derek sighed. “I want those things, too. With you, Stiles. I want those things with you.”

Full on smiling, Stiles stepped close to Derek until they were almost flush and guided the werewolf’s arms around his waist. He draped his arms over Derek’s shoulders and nuzzled noses with him. “Well, maybe we should make a joint hashtag relationship goals board and work towards those goals, huh?” Then he kissed Derek like a promise.

On their six month anniversary, Derek surprised him with Portal promise rings—one of the earliest pins Stiles made on his hashtag relationship goals board. Blue and orange, like the shirt Derek tried to fit in when pretending to be Stiles’ cousin, like Stiles’ favorite baseball team, like two unlikely things that go surprisingly well together. Like them. Stiles claimed the orange one as his own, then slipped the blue one onto Derek’s finger.

“Now you’re thinking with portals!”

When they kissed, Derek hoisted him up by the thighs, and Stiles wrapped his legs around his waist. Stiles laughed between kisses, and Derek carried him into the bedroom before he could make any more video game jokes.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr: [foxtricks](http://foxtricks.tumblr.com/)


End file.
